When the Star Spangled Ban- 
ner Cheered His Lonely Heart 
and Sounded Best to Him 



Being the Experience of a Soldier of 
the A. E. F. and a French Child 



C XVnJ» 



voJ.ouw^S^^ *^ • •'i^:t:tSU.' 




THE TORCH PRESS 

CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA 

1925 



IDUH-o 

.LS3S 



Copyright 1925 by 
Blanche E. Little 



Printed in U. S. A. 



DEC 22 1925 



CI A878149 



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'God give us men. 
A time like this, 
demands strong minds, 
great hearts, true faith 
and ready hands." 




Her Boy, who as a small child, said "I cannot 

SING, BUT I CAN FIGHT" 



The way these Yanks have 
come back. Not a growl or 
grumble. Lots of "p^P" ^^^ 
a determination, that now, 
that they've done their part 
in righting the world, to as- 
sume some responsibility in 
the reconstruction 




Lieutenant "Dick" Andrew W. Little 



Apologia 



This literary trifle was written in a hurry and under very 
unfavorable circumstances. The war was over. The only 
son was safely back. The household goods from the home 
in Chicago, were packed and stored. My lares and penates 
were abandoned. If Dick was going back to Oklahoma, so 
was I. We turned our backs on the city and went to the 
country — the old home "Oakland" on the Mississippi 
River. After a few days' rest, Dick went on to the south- 
west. Left alone, as it were, I began to realize that "war is 
never paid for until afterwards." The strain under which I 
had worked during the war, was telling on me. I felt worn 
and weary beyond expression. The daily rural route 
brought me a stack of mail. All magazines and papers 
were turned over to the tenants. I told them I did not want 
to look at a magazine or read a paper. They took me liter- 
ally and very carefully tried to keep all reading matter out 
of my sight, though occasionally, I would hear a newspaper 
rustling in another room. 

One day in walking around the yard, I noticed in the 
blue grass, a torn yellow, dirty, jagged-edged piece of news- 
paper, not as large as the palm of my hand. I stooped and 
picked it up, intending to put it in the stove. My eye lit on, 
"Fatherless children of France," and I was at once alert and 
interested, and I read on. I could just make out that this 
society, which was caring for many thousands of French 
children, whose fathers had been killed in the war, were 
advertising for a story, to be based upon the experience of 
some soldier of the A. E. F. and a French child. A cash 

11 



prize was offered. The date for the story to be in, was given. 
To make this, the manuscript must leave when the next 
R. R. delivery came along. There was just time to write my 
story (for I had the incident) in longhand, and get it off on 
the next mail — no typewriter handy — no time for cor- 
rections or re-writing. It was a case of write and run and 
get it to the end of the lane, before the rural mail carrier 
came along. The story was postmarked at an obscure 
Mississippi Valley postoffice. 

In due time a reply came, that to say the least was sur- 
prising. Where had I heard this story? If I had read it in 
some paper or magazine, would I give the "source," etc. My 
first impulse was to write on the bottom of the letter "Oh 
piffle" and mail it back. Then I thought better of that, and 
wrote, that the officer mentioned was my only son and gave 
them his address. I also gave the address of the French 
child and referred them to the New York publisher for 
whom I had worked for years. I assured them I had never 
lacked for copy. Then a letter of a different tone came, 
with a check enclosed. As it was all being done for "Sweet 
Charity's Sake" the check was returned. Now — go ahead 
and read the story. 



12 



The Story 



Dick, that really is his nick name, had resigned as mayor 
of the town that his father had started, and of which his 
father had been the first mayor and he the twelfth, to go 
and take the examination for the training camp. He wrote 
his mother, "I think that I have passed and I hope that 
I get to go." The San Antonio Express of October 1, 1917, 
speaking of men at Camp Stanley, Leon Springs, said "At 
the Officer's Reserve Camp among other well-known Okla- 
homans, is the mayor of Cushing, Okla., an enlisted man, 
and one who can write his check for several figures. The 
mayor is a private of infantry, and is lugging his pack with 
all the sang froid of a peddler." 

Such young men went to war not to fight for loot, or for 
annexations, or for indemnities for punitive damages — 
they went for the highest and noblest motives, to establish 
liberty and justice throughout the world — and to over- 
throw tyranny and militarism. 

After being appointed a first lieutenant at the Officers' 
Training Camp, came a hurried trip to Chicago to see 
mother. During his short stay in the city, Dick one evening 
attended the Horse Show at the Stock Yards. When the 
band played The Star Spangled Banner, he, on one side of 
that vast amphitheater and another officer on the opposite 
side, arose and stood at attention, until the last strain was 
played. These two evidently were the only army officers 
present. This incident recalled to mother, the time long 
before the war, when attending some entertainment at the 

13 



Coliseum, the band played our National Anthem, and a man 
in the gallery arose and stood at salute. The lady with her 
giggled and said, "See that big goose; what ails him?" 
"Not so," replied Dick's mother, "that man knows exactly 
what he is doing. He is an army officer, and if he failed 
to stand at attention, no matter where he hears that piece, 
he is liable to court martial." 

After a brief stay in Chicago, Dick reported back to his 
training camp. Then he was appointed Adjutant and 
ordered to Kelley Field, the large aviation camp out of 
San Antonio. Then came the wire that said, "Am leaving 
in the morning for France." Then came short letters and 
cards dropped en route from New Orleans, Montgomery, 
then from places along the Atlantic Coast, until New York, 
the Battery, the Brooklyn Bridge, and finally the aviation 
camp at Mineola, Long Island, was reached. From here he 
wrote to his mother, in the postscript of which he said, "Do 
not be alarmed at the tone of the above. We soldiers with- 
out being professing Christians, are in the habit of holding 
ourselves ready for the Ultima Ratio^ whenever our country 
calls for our services." 

Then there was the long and nerve-racking silence, until 
came the cable — wireless and, "without location" — Ar- 
rived safely." The next morning the paper's headline told 
of one of our troop ships being torpedoed and the terrific 
loss of life. That day a telegram to Dick's mother came 
from an army officer in New York, who had official inform- 
ation regarding all troop ships; it said, "The ship on which 
your son sailed, has landed safely." 

Through Scotland, England and to France, where Officer 
Dick's work took him from camp to camp; only a few weeks 
in any one place, and ready to move any time on a few 
hours notice — seldom long enough in one place, for his 
mail to catch up with him. 

14 



One chilly morning he arrived at Tours. He had the 
address of a French family with whom an American officer 
might secure a room. The French law in regard to the use 
of gasoline, put the possibility of securing a taxi out of the 
question. All vehicles were away at the front, then what 
was he to get, to haul his baggage'? 

An old Frenchman with a one-dog-power cart, was all 
that was available. Onto this cart Dick's luggage was piled, 
locker, grip, duffle bag, bed roll. It made a heavy load for 
the one medium-sized, shaggy brown dog to haul — but he 
tugged and pulled and seemed to delight in his task. The 
old Frenchman understood little American (over there it is 
not English) and Dick understood only training camp 
French; so in order that his various belongings might go to 
the right place, the officer had to accompany the outfit. 
Here was something new — a dog actually working and 
working hard, too, and apparently loving his task. This was 
so different from the pack of twelve beautiful grey hounds 
Dick as a boy had owned on the frontier. They were such 
happy care-free creatures, such aristocrats of dog-dom. 
With a lump in his throat, and an ache in his heart, the 
young officer stooped and patted the dog of the work-a-day, 
French world, and said, "Good dog, you are some dog; you 
are a fine fellow; you surely are doing your bit." The dog 
wagged his tail and looked at the young stranger, as much 
as to say, "I am so glad^ I can do this for your 

On the way through the narrow streets, a dog outfit, sim- 
ilar to theirs, though without any load, was met. The dog 
with no load was evidently a ''slacker" or a bolsheviki, for 
he refused to give any of the road. The dog with the heavy 
load growled and as much as said, "In the name of kindness 
and decency, give me part of the road; I am trying to do 
my bit by helping this young soldier along." Dog number 
two was stubborn and unreasonable. No road would he 



IS 



give. Dog number one let out a fierce growl, and right then 
and there occurred a unique dog fight. The air was full of 
growls and howls, and mouthfuls of dog-hair flew right and 
left. Then came peace and Mr. Heavily-loaded Dog (I 
think it should be spelled with a capital now) secured his 
rights and went tugging along to the Faivre home, where he 
was to leave his load. 

Dick found comfortable quarters with Messieur, Madam 
and young Gaston Faivre, ten years old. The room of the 
older son of the family, who was with the aviators at the 
front, was given the lieutenant. An amusing incident while 
in this hospitable home, was the fact that when Officer Dick 
gave madam his laundry to send away, some of his khaki 
handkerchiefs were not returned. After the third week he 
asked about them. She produced the dreadful missing arti- 
cles, but with a truly distressed look on her face — in her 
broken American she finally made him understand that what 
was worrying her, was the fact that he, an American officer, 
should have "Berlin" on his clothes. On some of his hand- 
kerchiefs, worked by machine across one corner was "Berlin 
or bust." Now madam had no doubt been to the Prefect of 
police and others. As "or bust" is one of our slang phrases, 
no one there knew what it meant. Even those who knew 
some American did not know what that stood for. When 
Dick finally understood what was worrying the good lady, 
he, in his broken and training camp French, explained to her 
that all A. E. F. soldiers hoped to reach Berlin before the 
war was over. Finally he said, ''Nous allons a Berlin'' (we 
are going to Berlin). At which she seemed satisfied and the 
rest of the family said, "tres bien" (very good). Everything 
was lovely after that. Every possible kindness was shown 
the American officer. Even the family cat took possession 
of his bed roll and purred when he came in. He "never 
had cared much for cats" but this cat — why it was really 

16 




Gaston Faivre, Tours, 

France 
He was known in Tours 
as the little French boy, 
who saluted every Amer- 
ican soldier whom he met 



a very pretty animal and that purr sounded quite musical — 
he believed that it was rather prettier than the strains from 
Master Gaston's practising on the piano downstairs. Then, 
too, did he not remember having heard that mother as a girl 
was very fond of cats, and that once she was very indignant 
at a school mate who told that she had twenty-six cats — 
such a story I Why, she only had sixteen. He smiled at the 
recollection; then he looked sober and sad. Why no word 
from mother or anyone else for weeks'? If it were only a 
line so he could know all was well with those nearest and 
dearest to him. Three weeks in Tours and still no word 
from home. 

The Faivre family were kindness itself. On May 1, a 
bunch of lilies of the valley were left in his room, and a 
May Day (Mai) greeting written in French was with the 
flowers. This is much the same custom as children hanging 
May Day baskets of flowers on the doors in this country. 

Master Gaston stopped his practising when he came in. 
A neatly kept room; his clothes nicely laundered and 
mended, showed the care of Madam Faivre. Father Faivre 
invited him in one evening to share a bottle of Vouvray 
wine. But to Master Gaston was left the task and won- 
derful practising, that was to be the climax, the Grand 
Finale of the Faivre family to Officer Dick. 

One evening, worn and weary beyond expression, and 
with a blinding headache, such a loneliness and longing as 
he had never known. Oh I why was there no word from 
home*? As he lifted his cap that evening entering the Faivre 
home, a strain of music struck his ear. He was alert, all 
attention — what was this ^ It was Master Gaston at the 
piano playing our National Anthem; with a double-quick 
step, the adjutant was at salute beside the piano. When 
Gaston finished he was given a regular American bear hug. 
"Bravo," said Dick; "you are a wonderful boy to play that 

19 



piece." Then he went whistling upstairs to find the accum- 
ulated mail of weeks piled high in his room. It just seemed 
to Lieutenant Dick that all that good news came floating 
in on the strains of The Star Spangled Banner. 




Camp Funston, Texas, September, 1917 
Name of Funston was changed to Stanley because there was another Camp 
Funston out of Leavenworth, Kansas, and two camps by the same name 

made confusion 



20 




In 1925 Gaston Faivre still plays The Star Spangled Banner 



OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM 

THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER 

Begins with a question and ends with a prayer. It breathes 
a spirit which has animated the loyalty of Americans ever 
since that historic and notable night in which it was com- 
posed. It proclaims that trust and declares that faith 
which has ever guided this Republic in its course. Its mes- 
sage has been woven into the highest aspirations of our 
national consciousness. 

The music of this song has encircled the world and when- 
ever heard stirs the heart to renewed allegiance. It stands 
unique in its lonely, beautiful grandeur and should invoke 
from millions today the same enthusiasm with which it was 
first greeted. The prayer with which it closes, expresses the 
faith our Pilgrim and Revolutionary fathers cherished and 
brings to us their benediction. 

The Star Spangled Banner ! The glorious symbol of the 
spirit of America. Men stand with bared head and women 
with their right hand over their heart and in silence, as the 
flag passes and the strains of its music floats upon the air. 



23 



STAR SPANGLED BANNER 

As used by National Society, Daughters of the American Revolution 

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light. 

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; 

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous flight, 
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming; 

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. 

FIRST CHORUS 

Oh, say, does the star-spangled banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep, 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes. 

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep. 
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses^ 

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, 

In full glory reflected now shines on the stream. 

SECOND CHORUS 

'Tis the star-spangled banner, oh ! long may it wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

When our land is illum'd with liberty's cry. 

If a foe from within strike a blow at her glory, 

Down, down with the traitor that dares to defile 
The flag of her stars and the page of her story ; 

By the millions unchain'd who our birthright have gain'd 

We will keep her bright blazon forever unstain'd. 

THIRD CHORUS 

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

Oh ! thus be it ever when free men shall stand, 

Between their loved home and the war's desolation, 

Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n rescued land 
Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserved us a Nation 

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 

And this be our motto, "In God is our trust." 

FOURTH CHORUS 

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

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